


Hide Your Fangs

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Angst, Destiny, Dysfunctional Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: You came under the banner of peace, an usher of a new era for our good King and the future he will shape. They do not know who and what you are under that banner, but I know.I know the pain, the heartache you will bring the instant you achieve what you came here for; the moment you came into this world to accomplish is set into motion.
Relationships: Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian)
Kudos: 10





	Hide Your Fangs

I see the way you weave your way into the very heart and soul of Camelot, how you've made yourself an equal to those who came before you. It is as if time, legacy, and merit do not have the audacity to touch you, to shape who you are in their eyes.

You came under the banner of peace, an usher of a new era for our good King and the future he will shape. They do not know who and what you are under that banner, but I know.

I know the pain, the heartache you will bring the instant you achieve what you came here for; the moment you came into this world to accomplish is set into motion.

Your smile as the king's most trusted knights burden you with their unfulfilled dreams does not betray your roots.

You hide your fangs so that they may think you one of them.

I know what it's like to have a father who won't look at you. What it's like to want so deeply to be recognized for the blood that sings in your veins. The way you look at him when you think no one else is looking is all I've ever needed to know that I am not alone in this pain.

They think you incompatible with family bonds, something outside of their experience, not someone wounded by their upbringing.

They do not know of wounds beyond battle. That a soul may hurt is something too esoteric, too frightening to consider.

You seek absolution from sins you never committed with no idea how much is required in blood, soul, and life itself. Once you start to strike, there is not a force - mortal or divine - that will be able to stop you.

They'll sentence you to your death and then write your story before anyone has the chance to realize they may have mourned you had you been left with a little more humanity.

We were made for their stories, to serve as guidelines for generations we will never meet. We have no more control over our lives than an insect has over the force of a crushing shoe.

Love never was for people like us. Nor were basic needs like belonging, camaraderie, and solace. And perhaps that is why we find each other, again and again, long after sundown and drink each other in. Hushed, rushed tangles of limbs and lips build the closest thing to reprieve we will ever manage to find.

You do not dare hide your fangs when it's just me in front of you.

There's always a moment before you leave my bed-chambers where I wonder who we might have been. Who we might become, even, if we find a way to shake the chains we've found ourselves bonded to.

'Go well, Galahad,' I want to tell you, 'and may one of us find a way to beat this game.'


End file.
